Not the ham in a can type, I actually like that. However, I am talking about the myriad of chain letters, hoaxes, and potporri that tend to waft my way.
Often, I get both ads for cialis and viagra, as well as ads to increase my breast size. In my case, they are missing their target audience.
I am getting mad about the chain letters. If I am told one more time that I will go to Hell if I stop this letter, I am going to find their email server, hack it, and then let them know what hell really is. Well, certainly hell for them. (Ed. note, never piss off an OLD time hacker. I was fiddling about with systems back when modems required you to put the phone handset in the cradle of the modem. Nuff said.)
I also get a veritable blizzard of emails from my mother, a devotee of AOL. Invariably, Snopes gives me the straight skinny, and I send her a link to the appropriate site. This, however, is a double edged sword. My loving wife checks everything out with Snopes. This can ruin something funny - case in point - sent her an email with a picture of a mouse caught in a toner cartridge. My comment was that I'd hate to get called out on that ticket. Mouse apparently survived its tussle with an HP laserjet, and was released. She checked it out, and found it "Unconfirmed." Knowing mice and HP's, I'd call it Plausible.
Sorry so long inbetween blogging, don't give up on me. I have discovered that work tends to take more and more of my time, and with that on top of cub scouts, various husbandly chores, and misc bull puckey, I have had little time to put my thoughts on here. Stay tuned though, I promise to write more tonight.
Until our next.....
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Thursday, May 05, 2005
I guess I'm normal... ish.
Found this on Patty-Jo's site. Here's me:
I have no idea what that means. Oh well :)
You Are 65% Normal (Really Normal) |
 Otherwise known as the normal amount of normal You're like most people most of the time But you've got those quirks that make you endearing You're unique, yes... but not frighteningly so! |
I have no idea what that means. Oh well :)
Monday, May 02, 2005
A question I have ALWAYS wanted to know the answer to....
First and foremost... I am not the author of the following article. I wish I was... but I ain't. I found it at Discovery. With that said, here we go. I wanted to know why Asparagus makes your pee stink. (OK, so I need a life worse than most....)
Why Asparagus Makes Your Pee Stink
by Hannah Holmes
"This is of no practical importance," the urologist tells me. "It wasn't part of my training. It's something we contemplated over pizza and beer." When I admit that I have actually timed the arrival of the distinctive odor in my pee after eating asparagus (about 15 minutes), the good doctor suggests, facetiously, that my groundbreaking research might lead to a tenure-track position at a fine university.
It is a sadly neglected field. But I'm not the first to ask.
In 1891 a scientist named "Nencki" had so very little to do that he convinced four guys to eat seven kilograms of asparagus (that's about three and a half pounds each). He collected the pertinent pee, worked some medieval magic on it, and concluded that the smell was due to a metabolite called methanethiol.
So there you go. Nencki claimed that as your body metabolizes asparagus, it produces this smelly chemical, which your discriminating kidneys see fit to dump into the bladder.
This probably doesn't qualify as red-hot science, but it's warm enough to spark differing opinions.
In 1975 a chemist from California claimed in Science that gas chromatography had fingered a different culprit: S-Methyl Thioesters, to be precise. No methanethiol.
Then there's the 1980 reference in the British Medical Journal that simply refers to "metabolites." Another asparagus scholar favors "six sulfur-containing compounds."
I'm voting for methanethiol, partly because the guy who did the gas chromatography left no forwarding address, and partly because the methanethiol entry in my aging Merck Index of chemicals is so interesting.
Methanethiol is composed mostly of sulfur with a splash of hydrogen, plus some carbon, a brew famous for its effect in rotten eggs, cabbages and paper mills. Convincing, no? Merck also notes the asparagus connection and, most intriguing, warns that methanethiol may be a narcotic in high concentrations.
Now if you're scowling at your screen and muttering, "My pee doesn't smell like asparagus," first ask yourself if you eat asparagus.
Even if you do but lack the smell, you're still OK. In fact the fabulously funny book, The ReSearch Guide to Body Fluids (by Paul Spinrad, Juno Books, N.Y., 1994), says just 22 percent of survey respondents experience asparagus pee.
Early investigators thought genetics had divided the world into stinkers and nonstinkers. That was until 1980, when three researchers had the presence of mind to wave pee from the nonstinkers under the noses of the stinkers.
Lo and behold, the problem proved to be one not of producing the stinky pee but of being able to sniff it out.
If you've been deprived of this gift, don't give up hope. To increase the concentration of methanethiol molecules available to your snoot, you could either intentionally dehydrate yourself before you dine (this is unhealthful); or pee into a cup and sniff that. Or eat three and a half pounds of asparagus for lunch.
And if you experience a narcotic effect, you could be looking at a tenure-track position at a fine university.
Hannah Holmes sniffs out answers to life's oddities in Portland, Maine. She's a regular contributor to Discovery Channel Online and also writes for Escape, Outside, Sierra, Backpacker, Eco Traveler and Women's Sports and Fitness. Write her at skinny@online.discovery.com.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Not to be outdone by MissPatriot
Saw this on her blog, and had to try it.
Which apparently means:
You are the large, round, friendly d20! (You probably didn't know this, but the shape of the twenty-sided die is called an Icosahedron.) You are the friendly, outgoing, outspoken, leader of friends. You are often looked up to, even though you don't normally deserve it. Most other types secretly wish they were you, and you'd give them tips on how, if only you had a clue yourself. Your charisma is often all you need, but you have your occasional moments of brilliance as well--just never when it's actually needed. You are the all-around good guy, a dependable chum, a respectable foe, and an inspiration to those who need one. Who says you can't get by on a smile and good looks alone?
Which apparently means:
You are the large, round, friendly d20! (You probably didn't know this, but the shape of the twenty-sided die is called an Icosahedron.) You are the friendly, outgoing, outspoken, leader of friends. You are often looked up to, even though you don't normally deserve it. Most other types secretly wish they were you, and you'd give them tips on how, if only you had a clue yourself. Your charisma is often all you need, but you have your occasional moments of brilliance as well--just never when it's actually needed. You are the all-around good guy, a dependable chum, a respectable foe, and an inspiration to those who need one. Who says you can't get by on a smile and good looks alone?
Another Nifty test.
Not sure how I feel about this one ... but here you are....
Your Inner European is Russian! |
 Mysterious and exotic. You've got a great balance of danger and allure. |
Friday, April 22, 2005
Pictures from Savannah
I got these two pictures when I visited Savannah, they are of Chase and Suzanne of the blog Contemblogging and me. They were quite gracious, and I truely enjoyed our beautiful Sunday afternoon. More later...
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
My test results.
Here are my test results, as noted on Sharon's blog.
I think I am supposed to be either depressed, or totally inebrieated. I think I spelled that right.
Until our next.........
| Bacardi 151 Congratulations! You're 139 proof, with specific scores in beer (80) , wine (100), and liquor (113). |
All right. No more messing around. Your knowledge of alcohol is so high that you have drinking and getting plastered down to a science. Sure, you could get wasted drinking beer, but who needs all those trips to the bathroom? You head straight for the bar and pick up that which is most efficient. |
 |
My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
| Link: The Alcohol Knowledge Test written by hoppersplit on Ok Cupid |
I think I am supposed to be either depressed, or totally inebrieated. I think I spelled that right.
Until our next.........
Friday, March 25, 2005
It's Good Friday.
There is an oxymoron somewhere in the above. I mean, it's good because it's Friday, and it's good because of what happened about this date 2005 years ago... but to realize we are celebrating the death of (in my belief) the Messiah is heartbreaking. Every year I have difficulty with this... but to paraphrase something that makes it tolerable...
Jesus lived a good and faithful life in a wicked world. He did this because that is the kind of person he was, and to show us it could be done. He was one to always lead by example.
On Easter Sunday, he rose again from the dead. He did this to show we could do that, too.
All I can say to that is .... Amen.
God bless, and until our next........
Jesus lived a good and faithful life in a wicked world. He did this because that is the kind of person he was, and to show us it could be done. He was one to always lead by example.
On Easter Sunday, he rose again from the dead. He did this to show we could do that, too.
All I can say to that is .... Amen.
God bless, and until our next........
Friday, March 18, 2005
Wow. It's been a while.
I am sorry it has been so long since I typed anything. I have to admit, a part was being so sick (I was off a whole week - I haven't missed more than one day from work in years.) Part was being burnt out from work around the house. Part was just work. And part was simple exhaustion. So forgive me, and if you all have left me, I understand :) Homecoming soon I hope.
I now know what Sharon has to deal with. My wife, who now stays at home to deal with just this kind of thing, went to my daughter's parent/teacher conference. What an UPLIFTING experience. NOT.
It turns out that my daughter, who is ADHD, has still had problems getting the work she does turned in. I have issues with this, but that isn't the point. If she turns in ANYTHING late, even by minutes, it instantly goes into a black hole. This is known as the "Late Paper Bin". My guess is that it is little more than a recycle bin. Anything turned in late, regardless of it's merit and correctness is instantly transformed to a "D" (or a 60%).
I have to be honest. On the one hand, I do understand the teacher's attempt to push students to get papers in on time. I really do. On the other hand, however, I do have issues with an instant 40% degredation of work done. And the fact that he goes through his bin once every month or so makes it even harder. So papers can, and do, get misplaced. Even if she does the work, and gets it in late, it may or may not even get credited to her. This is an ongoing issue.
Secondly, my daughter was hoping to attend "Outdoor School" - which is a summer program for 6th graders. It costs money, for which there are innumerable fund raisers throughout the year. We have participated in all of them, and were ready and willing to make up the difference.
Here comes the other shoe... it appears that there are "behavioral guidelines" that up until now, were not known to us. She has to have three weeks of perfect homework turning in, and must meet another nebulous behavior constrictions. If she doesn't, then she can't go, and the money she (read me and her mom) raised goes into the kitty for other students, thereby cutting THEIR costs for attendance.
My issue is not that the money goes into the kitty. It's that way for a LOT of things. However, my issue IS with their not telling us these guidelines until it is virtually too late to do anything about. There are no exceptions made for LD kids, and we also found out that ADHD is not really a LD issue but a behavioral issue. HMMMM.
SO that's my rant today. God bless everyone, (we all could use it anyway,) and go to Sharon's blog and wish her happy birthday.
Until our next.........
I now know what Sharon has to deal with. My wife, who now stays at home to deal with just this kind of thing, went to my daughter's parent/teacher conference. What an UPLIFTING experience. NOT.
It turns out that my daughter, who is ADHD, has still had problems getting the work she does turned in. I have issues with this, but that isn't the point. If she turns in ANYTHING late, even by minutes, it instantly goes into a black hole. This is known as the "Late Paper Bin". My guess is that it is little more than a recycle bin. Anything turned in late, regardless of it's merit and correctness is instantly transformed to a "D" (or a 60%).
I have to be honest. On the one hand, I do understand the teacher's attempt to push students to get papers in on time. I really do. On the other hand, however, I do have issues with an instant 40% degredation of work done. And the fact that he goes through his bin once every month or so makes it even harder. So papers can, and do, get misplaced. Even if she does the work, and gets it in late, it may or may not even get credited to her. This is an ongoing issue.
Secondly, my daughter was hoping to attend "Outdoor School" - which is a summer program for 6th graders. It costs money, for which there are innumerable fund raisers throughout the year. We have participated in all of them, and were ready and willing to make up the difference.
Here comes the other shoe... it appears that there are "behavioral guidelines" that up until now, were not known to us. She has to have three weeks of perfect homework turning in, and must meet another nebulous behavior constrictions. If she doesn't, then she can't go, and the money she (read me and her mom) raised goes into the kitty for other students, thereby cutting THEIR costs for attendance.
My issue is not that the money goes into the kitty. It's that way for a LOT of things. However, my issue IS with their not telling us these guidelines until it is virtually too late to do anything about. There are no exceptions made for LD kids, and we also found out that ADHD is not really a LD issue but a behavioral issue. HMMMM.
SO that's my rant today. God bless everyone, (we all could use it anyway,) and go to Sharon's blog and wish her happy birthday.
Until our next.........
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
I scared myself today.
Woke up last night with a bit of a fever, so I called in this morning. And things proceeded to go downhill. Called the doctor, got an appointment for this afternoon.
When I checked in at the doctors, my temp was 104.1 . They double checked it. 103.8 the second time. I was NOT a happy camper.
So I was the lucky recipient of some IV antibiotics, and some new goodies to tear me up for a week or two, and a note from my doctor saying I can go back to work on Monday. Well, at least I have time to catch up on my blogging. :)
Until our next.........
When I checked in at the doctors, my temp was 104.1 . They double checked it. 103.8 the second time. I was NOT a happy camper.
So I was the lucky recipient of some IV antibiotics, and some new goodies to tear me up for a week or two, and a note from my doctor saying I can go back to work on Monday. Well, at least I have time to catch up on my blogging. :)
Until our next.........
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Do you want to go Home??
I want to go home. You know, where I came from. I live now in the Pacific Northwest. It rains a LOT. I'm a Southern boy - born and raised in Virginia, went to High School in southern Texas.
When I go home to visit, I can smell the marshes, with their sulfurous odor of decaying seashores, exposed sea mud... and I know intrinsically that the very smell flows through my veins. The smell of the wind over the ocean hitting my face. The way the sun looks right at sunset. It's like the wavelength of the rays are different... Beckoning me home.
I can deny my heritage no more than I could deny being Caucasian or red headed. Well, it used to be red :)... My mouth yearns for the taste of pulled pork barbecue, brisket done Texas style, shrimp boiled fresh from the boat, knowing they were swimming happily in the ocean only hours before.
I remember the sounds .... the splash of mullet in the channels, the lap of water on the shoreline. The look of the moon as it rose over the water. In Virginia, the rustling of trees getting ready to drop their leaves, the crunch of the ice covered puddles as I go to the bus in October/November.
Sometimes I wonder if the strength of these yearnings are not the pull of home but the wish to return to simpler times. I don't know.
What do you think?
Until our next ........
When I go home to visit, I can smell the marshes, with their sulfurous odor of decaying seashores, exposed sea mud... and I know intrinsically that the very smell flows through my veins. The smell of the wind over the ocean hitting my face. The way the sun looks right at sunset. It's like the wavelength of the rays are different... Beckoning me home.
I can deny my heritage no more than I could deny being Caucasian or red headed. Well, it used to be red :)... My mouth yearns for the taste of pulled pork barbecue, brisket done Texas style, shrimp boiled fresh from the boat, knowing they were swimming happily in the ocean only hours before.
I remember the sounds .... the splash of mullet in the channels, the lap of water on the shoreline. The look of the moon as it rose over the water. In Virginia, the rustling of trees getting ready to drop their leaves, the crunch of the ice covered puddles as I go to the bus in October/November.
Sometimes I wonder if the strength of these yearnings are not the pull of home but the wish to return to simpler times. I don't know.
What do you think?
Until our next ........
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Life, love, and what was I thinking???
Some days are better than others.
You know, I am sure that is a maxim at some level. However, one of my greatest attributes has been stating the obvious.
Sorry Gentle Reader for the lack of posting. A good online friend went through some bad times, and I was a bit preoccupied with that and life that goes on around this damn computer, and not on it. My friend is home now and done with the hospital. I am glad all is well and back at home. Next time, DON'T WAIT SO LONG TO GO. 'Nuff said.
Bought a travel trailer over the weekend. It fits all of us, and is reasonably comfy. Maybe a bit cosy, but it works. Needed a LOT of help though. More than we expected. It'll sort itself out. I fixed all the appliances and the water leak last night, and my darling bride will grab the last piece of goodies we need to make it whole. But I can assure you that I was not pleased. I hate when people don't give you the straight skinny. It pisses me off. Oh well, so do a lot of other things!!! (GRIN)
We went on a tiny vacation this last weekend also. My wife and two children joined a good friend and his wife and child on a road trip to Klamath Falls, near Crater Lake. It was fun, but also testy. My daughter, although better than she was, still likes to lash out with pure, unadulterated, pre-teen venom on a regular basis.
That can be painful. For all involved. I was reminiscing for the time when she was more pleasant to be around all the time. I had to think back a while.
I commented on this with my wife. she shook her head, and smiled... and reminded me of a few not so dark times.
Here is the big one. On Easter Sunday about 9 years ago, we were at my in-laws for dinner. They lived at the time on a big bluff with a beautiful view of Mt. Hood. Of course, it was basically a heavily wooded cliff, with a dropoff of about 60 degrees. Ick. I HATE heights. A LOT.
All of the children out playing, including the older ones watching came back. Except my 2 year old daughter. That's a bad thing.
So we went running and yelling her name trying to find her. I heard her small voice come up from over the cliff, saying "Daddy".
I jumped.
Not your typical hop of the edge thing. I got a good running start and JUMPED. My sister in law, who is not my biggest fan, said I looked like superman. I never gave it a thought. Well, until later... ick. ICK. I still hate heights.
Got my daughter and clawed my way back up the cliff, hanging onto tree stumps and trunks, with my daughter on my back the whole way. It was about 75 yards down. She was safe. All was well.
Years later, when my wife and I were having problems, (I'm stubborn and stupid from time to time), she said something that made an Impact.
She said she didn't want to be married to someone that wouldn't jump off a cliff for his daughter.
I am glad to say, I will. Because I have.
Maybe some days ARE better than others.
And today isn't so bad after all.
Until our next......
You know, I am sure that is a maxim at some level. However, one of my greatest attributes has been stating the obvious.
Sorry Gentle Reader for the lack of posting. A good online friend went through some bad times, and I was a bit preoccupied with that and life that goes on around this damn computer, and not on it. My friend is home now and done with the hospital. I am glad all is well and back at home. Next time, DON'T WAIT SO LONG TO GO. 'Nuff said.
Bought a travel trailer over the weekend. It fits all of us, and is reasonably comfy. Maybe a bit cosy, but it works. Needed a LOT of help though. More than we expected. It'll sort itself out. I fixed all the appliances and the water leak last night, and my darling bride will grab the last piece of goodies we need to make it whole. But I can assure you that I was not pleased. I hate when people don't give you the straight skinny. It pisses me off. Oh well, so do a lot of other things!!! (GRIN)
We went on a tiny vacation this last weekend also. My wife and two children joined a good friend and his wife and child on a road trip to Klamath Falls, near Crater Lake. It was fun, but also testy. My daughter, although better than she was, still likes to lash out with pure, unadulterated, pre-teen venom on a regular basis.
That can be painful. For all involved. I was reminiscing for the time when she was more pleasant to be around all the time. I had to think back a while.
I commented on this with my wife. she shook her head, and smiled... and reminded me of a few not so dark times.
Here is the big one. On Easter Sunday about 9 years ago, we were at my in-laws for dinner. They lived at the time on a big bluff with a beautiful view of Mt. Hood. Of course, it was basically a heavily wooded cliff, with a dropoff of about 60 degrees. Ick. I HATE heights. A LOT.
All of the children out playing, including the older ones watching came back. Except my 2 year old daughter. That's a bad thing.
So we went running and yelling her name trying to find her. I heard her small voice come up from over the cliff, saying "Daddy".
I jumped.
Not your typical hop of the edge thing. I got a good running start and JUMPED. My sister in law, who is not my biggest fan, said I looked like superman. I never gave it a thought. Well, until later... ick. ICK. I still hate heights.
Got my daughter and clawed my way back up the cliff, hanging onto tree stumps and trunks, with my daughter on my back the whole way. It was about 75 yards down. She was safe. All was well.
Years later, when my wife and I were having problems, (I'm stubborn and stupid from time to time), she said something that made an Impact.
She said she didn't want to be married to someone that wouldn't jump off a cliff for his daughter.
I am glad to say, I will. Because I have.
Maybe some days ARE better than others.
And today isn't so bad after all.
Until our next......
Monday, February 14, 2005
I stlll hate the IRS - I hate FMS more though
It appears, that an old student loan of my wife's has reared it's ugly head. And took it ALL. Ok - so I can file for my half, and thats ok, but that moves it out about 8 weeks. And significantly shortens my temper. And screws up my plans. Damn. I'll live, but my darling wife can attest that I was NOT a happy camper. AT ALL.
God Bless
Until our next..........
God Bless
Until our next..........
Sunday, February 13, 2005
I hate the IRS
Boy. Sometimes it just doesn't pay to do your taxes, no matter what.
For the first time in some years, I am finally due a refund. So, I set it up with direct deposit. It was supposed to be there on Friday. Hmm. Nothing. Not a cent.
I had plans for that - looking at some car repairs, a trip coming up, put a bit away, and a new trailer to go camping in. Shoot.
Maybe this is God's way of teaching me patience. Or someone else's way of teaching me a lesson. But, eventually, it will be there. Monday would be nice.
Until our next.......
For the first time in some years, I am finally due a refund. So, I set it up with direct deposit. It was supposed to be there on Friday. Hmm. Nothing. Not a cent.
I had plans for that - looking at some car repairs, a trip coming up, put a bit away, and a new trailer to go camping in. Shoot.
Maybe this is God's way of teaching me patience. Or someone else's way of teaching me a lesson. But, eventually, it will be there. Monday would be nice.
Until our next.......
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
My Little Girl is not so little anymore.
First and most important... please follow this link. A good friend has seen fit to post her beautiful drawings on the internet. I intend to capitalize on that - please look at them all. It is not often I see the depth of color utilized in that manner. But, then I am no art critic by any means. I do know what I like. Please click on that link - and then come back.
The drawing is of a little girl. My little girl is no longer so little. As you have probably noticed of late, gentle reader, that I have been waxing nostalgic. I like the term "mental rerun". I suppose it is time I got off my ass and woke up and smelled the new millenia. But I don't want to.
I have found out that my darling little girl has now entered pubescence. I hope I spelled that right. She crossed the threshold between little girl and young woman. I was not ready. I guess I never would have been. It comes with being a Dad. I am certain that someday my darling daughter will grow up and beat the crap outa me for posting... but strangely enough this is not about her. It's about me.
I was not and am not really ready for the heartache to follow. The late nights, waiting for her to come home after a dance. Questioning each date as if I were my father. Wishing he were here to guide me more. The drawing apart of a daughter from her father, the rebellion of creepagerdom.
I think I am most sad because this is a point of no return. I could fool myself, and believe that she isn't growing. I could convince myself that age wasn't marking its time step by inexorable step. It seems as if it was only yesterday. Do you know I know exactly what program was on when she was born? My wife and I were lovers of the old show Key West with Fisher Stevens. You know, man wins lotto and then has to pay piper. Moves to Key West to become the writer Hemmingway was. It was a good, quirky show. Personally, I had it bad for Jennifer Tully. (I still do... don't tell my wife. GRIN)
Just about the time that she finally started "getting down to business" - it was on. It was an episode where Fisher Stevens almost dies, and meets another characters dead wife... Quirky - but good. I miss it. I remember the poignancy of the show that night - and it has stayed with me all these years.
And again - it strikes me. That long ago TV show, Fisher meeting Ciece telling "Gumbo" to get along with his life. I guess she's telling me to do the same. I am sad now, knowing my little girl is gone, and I need to start paying more attention to the young lady aspects of her life, hopefully giving her the information she needs to make wise choices that I won't be there to help with.
Mostly, I am lonely. And I feel very, very old.
God bless, and until our next..........
The drawing is of a little girl. My little girl is no longer so little. As you have probably noticed of late, gentle reader, that I have been waxing nostalgic. I like the term "mental rerun". I suppose it is time I got off my ass and woke up and smelled the new millenia. But I don't want to.
I have found out that my darling little girl has now entered pubescence. I hope I spelled that right. She crossed the threshold between little girl and young woman. I was not ready. I guess I never would have been. It comes with being a Dad. I am certain that someday my darling daughter will grow up and beat the crap outa me for posting... but strangely enough this is not about her. It's about me.
I was not and am not really ready for the heartache to follow. The late nights, waiting for her to come home after a dance. Questioning each date as if I were my father. Wishing he were here to guide me more. The drawing apart of a daughter from her father, the rebellion of creepagerdom.
I think I am most sad because this is a point of no return. I could fool myself, and believe that she isn't growing. I could convince myself that age wasn't marking its time step by inexorable step. It seems as if it was only yesterday. Do you know I know exactly what program was on when she was born? My wife and I were lovers of the old show Key West with Fisher Stevens. You know, man wins lotto and then has to pay piper. Moves to Key West to become the writer Hemmingway was. It was a good, quirky show. Personally, I had it bad for Jennifer Tully. (I still do... don't tell my wife. GRIN)
Just about the time that she finally started "getting down to business" - it was on. It was an episode where Fisher Stevens almost dies, and meets another characters dead wife... Quirky - but good. I miss it. I remember the poignancy of the show that night - and it has stayed with me all these years.
And again - it strikes me. That long ago TV show, Fisher meeting Ciece telling "Gumbo" to get along with his life. I guess she's telling me to do the same. I am sad now, knowing my little girl is gone, and I need to start paying more attention to the young lady aspects of her life, hopefully giving her the information she needs to make wise choices that I won't be there to help with.
Mostly, I am lonely. And I feel very, very old.
God bless, and until our next..........
Oh Good Grief.
Michael the Archangel has a blog. He's a friend. I read a blog he wrote today. I laughed my ass off. Then I read the comments. And had to go change my pants. Good Lord. You have GOT to go read this...
MTA Post
Now - truth in "advertising" - as I said, he's a friend. I neither condone nor condemn ANYTHING written about in either the blog or the comments. Well, those that know me, KNOW me. Read my comment. It'll help. :) Jeez.... my side hurts. My face hurts. If I don't stop giggling I will have to go change again. OOPS, too late.
Until our next.......
MTA Post
Now - truth in "advertising" - as I said, he's a friend. I neither condone nor condemn ANYTHING written about in either the blog or the comments. Well, those that know me, KNOW me. Read my comment. It'll help. :) Jeez.... my side hurts. My face hurts. If I don't stop giggling I will have to go change again. OOPS, too late.
Until our next.......
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Watching Submarine Races.
Over the last few days, I have been suffering from some malaise. I first thought it was because I was sick, but there is more to it. I have been suffering from being homesick. Ok, so far I haven't explained the title. I will. You'll see.
Now before you pooh pooh the idea, you have to realize there is more to being homesick than just missing your "home". I think the nostalgic post from last Wednesday was symptomatic. I miss a herd of things. I suspect it is a lot like what Sharon wrote about today. Read it here. I think that a lot of it is what she says at the end... in order to pick up something new, you have to let something go. My problem is that I am not always ready to let go of the things I already have. Maybe it's because it took so long for me to get them in the first place.
You know the Dylan Thomas poem, Do not go gently into that good night ? I intend to go kicking and screaming the whole way. Fight tooth and nail. If I live to be a hundred, I suppose it won't be long enough. Until I am a little more comfortable with my own mortality.
Which is probably why I tend to wax so philosophical about my younger years. I want to always remember where I came from, so I will know where I am going. That, and I want to be half the man my father was. If I can manage to fill his shoes that much, I will have acomplished much. (You really have to bear with me here, Pop was a bit larger than life.)
I remember how my time was used up then. I spent a fair amount of time looking at submarine races with ..... a female classmate. Never did anything to be ashamed of, but did a LOT to be enjoyable :) I tried real hard to play guitar with three other guys in the bandshell at the beach near the house. I have discovered, that no matter how badly your playing sucks, it ALWAYS sounds better in a band shell.
I used a fair amount of time fishing. Notice it is NOT called catching. We used to fish for redfish, sea trout, and sometimes sheepshead. Usually, we were rewarded with a lot of lost bait, and wonderful memories. Besides, sheepshead are ugly fish. The damn things have real teeth. I kid you not. But they are good eating I am told.
I always felt safe. In my younger years, that was not always the case, but after I moved in with Dad, I felt safe. Not really pressured... Dad just wanted me to do the best I could. He made sure I knew that my best was all he wanted. And that's what he got. Always. I always felt that's what I got from him too. Now, hopefully my children will say that of me in 25 years.
So, please bear with me on the philosophical stuff, and the nostalgia. I promise I'll be back in a bit, but the re-runs are nice :)
God Bless, and
Until our next..........
Now before you pooh pooh the idea, you have to realize there is more to being homesick than just missing your "home". I think the nostalgic post from last Wednesday was symptomatic. I miss a herd of things. I suspect it is a lot like what Sharon wrote about today. Read it here. I think that a lot of it is what she says at the end... in order to pick up something new, you have to let something go. My problem is that I am not always ready to let go of the things I already have. Maybe it's because it took so long for me to get them in the first place.
You know the Dylan Thomas poem, Do not go gently into that good night ? I intend to go kicking and screaming the whole way. Fight tooth and nail. If I live to be a hundred, I suppose it won't be long enough. Until I am a little more comfortable with my own mortality.
Which is probably why I tend to wax so philosophical about my younger years. I want to always remember where I came from, so I will know where I am going. That, and I want to be half the man my father was. If I can manage to fill his shoes that much, I will have acomplished much. (You really have to bear with me here, Pop was a bit larger than life.)
I remember how my time was used up then. I spent a fair amount of time looking at submarine races with ..... a female classmate. Never did anything to be ashamed of, but did a LOT to be enjoyable :) I tried real hard to play guitar with three other guys in the bandshell at the beach near the house. I have discovered, that no matter how badly your playing sucks, it ALWAYS sounds better in a band shell.
I used a fair amount of time fishing. Notice it is NOT called catching. We used to fish for redfish, sea trout, and sometimes sheepshead. Usually, we were rewarded with a lot of lost bait, and wonderful memories. Besides, sheepshead are ugly fish. The damn things have real teeth. I kid you not. But they are good eating I am told.
I always felt safe. In my younger years, that was not always the case, but after I moved in with Dad, I felt safe. Not really pressured... Dad just wanted me to do the best I could. He made sure I knew that my best was all he wanted. And that's what he got. Always. I always felt that's what I got from him too. Now, hopefully my children will say that of me in 25 years.
So, please bear with me on the philosophical stuff, and the nostalgia. I promise I'll be back in a bit, but the re-runs are nice :)
God Bless, and
Until our next..........
Doing the right thing
There comes a time when everyone has to stand and deliver. For some, it is tantamount to the Gettysburg Address. For others, it is right there with delivering a pizza. But everyone has a moment or two where they gotta do what they gotta do. Besides, I have a penchance for tilting at windmills, remember?
So here we are, two great ladies with 'tudes, a poor, disheveled Cubmaster, and me. At that time of the morning, I am doing my best to just not look like a heap. So we're a sight. At any rate, the fireworks start when the aforementioned Cubmaster chews on his foot when he calls the ladies over to chat. Sigh. Tact can be lost sometimes. When I arrive, one lady is standing in the door ready to bug out and honked off, the other is blissfully ignoring the first one, I guess because it's easier I guess. The cubmaster looks like he is about to blow up. Ok all, time out.
I manage, 2 hours later, to turn it from a nightmare to one of the most productive meetings we've had. Oodles of stuff got done, and more got predone for the next month because it needed to happen. We managed to become organized. My life is bordering on complete. Well, maybe more up to date at least.
A long time ago, someone told my dad he was good. Dad said he was pretty good, but VERY lucky. He then confided in me that he would much rather be lucky than good. I agreed with him. I still do. I have been, for the most part. Lucky, and loved. Put the two together, and that makes you VERY lucky. Today, again, I was blessed with lucky. Amen and hallelujah.
Here is the part that still bugs me though. We had all of this great stuff going on today, and for the life of me I couldn't explain why it hadn't happened before. Why hadn't the prior folks in leadership - or hell, rank and file, stepped up to the plate and done the right thing? It wasn't hard to see what needed to happen, it just needed to happen. Sheesh.
until later ... (I need more coffee)...
So here we are, two great ladies with 'tudes, a poor, disheveled Cubmaster, and me. At that time of the morning, I am doing my best to just not look like a heap. So we're a sight. At any rate, the fireworks start when the aforementioned Cubmaster chews on his foot when he calls the ladies over to chat. Sigh. Tact can be lost sometimes. When I arrive, one lady is standing in the door ready to bug out and honked off, the other is blissfully ignoring the first one, I guess because it's easier I guess. The cubmaster looks like he is about to blow up. Ok all, time out.
I manage, 2 hours later, to turn it from a nightmare to one of the most productive meetings we've had. Oodles of stuff got done, and more got predone for the next month because it needed to happen. We managed to become organized. My life is bordering on complete. Well, maybe more up to date at least.
A long time ago, someone told my dad he was good. Dad said he was pretty good, but VERY lucky. He then confided in me that he would much rather be lucky than good. I agreed with him. I still do. I have been, for the most part. Lucky, and loved. Put the two together, and that makes you VERY lucky. Today, again, I was blessed with lucky. Amen and hallelujah.
Here is the part that still bugs me though. We had all of this great stuff going on today, and for the life of me I couldn't explain why it hadn't happened before. Why hadn't the prior folks in leadership - or hell, rank and file, stepped up to the plate and done the right thing? It wasn't hard to see what needed to happen, it just needed to happen. Sheesh.
until later ... (I need more coffee)...
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